


Stay With Me

by StydiaFanfics



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, baby Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 01:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2091210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StydiaFanfics/pseuds/StydiaFanfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia are a couple in college. He didn't expect their spring vacation to end with a marriage proposal. Especially not after Lydia Martin's reign of terror.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

This was the day.

The one day he thought he swore he was never going to see coming. Maybe just in his dreams. But no. Today, today was real. Not a dream.

His father’s words before he took the first step to the altar. Scott’s good luck wink as the best man by his side. The forming tears in his eyes upon seeing her for the first time in that white gown that screamed, “This is it. I love you, and I am going to marry you. This is us. Me and you, Stiles. Me and you. Forever.”

Seeing that smile of hers. It was clear to him that these emotions were because of that one single smile. Because this was love. Their love. A unique love that only belonged to Stiles and Lydia.

The day he never saw coming. And despite all the challenges and all the anger, he could remember everything. From day one.

She was the one.

 

\---

 

Okay, so they fought. Maybe a little bit too much. Stiles liked to believe that without fighting, there would never be an opportunity to improve. To say their differences and learn more about one another. It was good to fight. It had to be. Well, with the exception of today.

It was hot and the feeling of his shirt literally attached to his skin made it feel as if a hot iron was placed on his back and molted the two together. Really unpleasant if anybody asked him. And, okay. Maybe Lydia had a point. He should have taken the Jeep to the shop and have them install an air conditioning system before the trip, not during. It could have avoided the three hours of arguing. 

“Ugh. I hate you,” she said bitterly. Something he came to love along with anything else relating to Lydia Martin. Even if they were potentially life threatening to Stiles, he knew she never meant it even though she never forgot to remind him.

“See that right there? That’s cute. What you are doing there with the arms and what not. Acting to be mad at me.” He points all over her body. Her arms were crossed. He could tell she was uncomfortable sitting on a plastic chair on what this small town called a “waiting” area at the nearest autobody shop in a twenty mile radius.

Her eyes widened just enough to send the clear message. This was not a game. "Acting. Seriously?"

Okay, so maybe she was being serious this time. He would hate himself as well if he were Lydia. She warned him about this. She always warned him about everything, but the boy loved to take risks. According to him, there was always an easy solution. There had to be. Even if it meant delaying their spring break vacation in Las Vegas with everyone else by four hours.

“Wow. Okay,” he said, playing the victim by raising his arms in the air. “I swear. I’ll make it up to you.” He leans over, feeling the blue plastic chair rip away from his white tank, to set a slight kiss on her cheek. “I promise.” He honestly didn’t know how, but in Vegas, the odds of finding a way was high enough. There was probably all sorts of things you could do in a night there.

Lydia shoves him away and he laughs.

By the time the mechanic gave him back his keys, Lydia’s hair was sticking out from all types of frizz. Stiles decided to play with the tiny stands on the crook of her neck as they continued their road trip in the middle of a deserted valley road that led to the main highway.

It didn’t take Lydia long before she slapped his hand away and smiled towards the red rock that had become their view for the next few hours. She loved this Jeep, despite all its imperfections. There was no doubt about it.

\----

 

Making it up to Lydia wasn't as easy as he thought it would be. Initially the plan (without the four hour delay) was get to the hotel, meet with the gang, and get refreshments by the pool until it was late enough to hit the strip. They got there way beyond the pool part.

While checking in, an annoyed Lydia told him to leave her alone while she did the whole "Name please. Here's your key. Enjoy your stay,” process.

Stiles being Stiles clearly knew better than to annoy her even more by looking outside towards the various advertisements and promotions about performances happening tonight, and there he got it. He knew what to do to make it up to her.

She denied his request of showering together even if it meant they would delay the whole trip even more. He didn't take it personally because he does blames himself for most of her actions today. So showering separately was a must tonight.

Stiles let her believe that the others were waiting for them at the casino a few blocks away. When he got out of the shower before opening the door, he went online and decided to reserve two seats for a performance he knew she would die for. He didn't want Lydia's sneaky ways to figure out what he was up to though. So, when he got out he left the phone charging.

He got out with a towel around his hips and hair dripping, she was standing there by the mirror placing bronze earrings to finish off the masterpiece she created of herself.

An olive color bandage strap dress that hugged her body all at the right places made it unbelievably hard for him to focus anywhere else. Her once frizzed hair was styled into a messy bun he could only imagine his hands undoing. Lips bright and pink. Most likely his favorite mint flavor. He knew it was going to be hard to resist tonight. A bit too much.

She glances at him through the mirror and smirks. It wasn't long before she picks up her handbag and began placing her touch-up items in it. Avoiding the mirror on purpose.

"You are seriously trying to kill me tonight huh?" he said, swallowing whatever urge of want that was starting to build in him.

He began to move to the bed so he could get, one: his clothes, and two: avoid looking at her at all costs while he was more than half naked.

Next thing he knew as he picked up a gray dress shirt from his bag, two slender hands land on his chest from behind. He clenches onto the shirt in his hands. She was playing and clearly winning this battle. She was not going to let him make up for today.

"Killing you," she laughs as her hands began gliding down his midsection, slowly making their way to her desired destination, leaving the trail of hairs rise behind with need. "Would be the easy way out, Stilinski."

And as fast as she came near him, she left. He was left standing there with a wrinkled shirt and a loose towel around him.

She opens the door and tells him that she'll meet him at the bar downstairs.

"Lydia." He breaths, but it sounded more like a whine than the annoyance he hoped for. "Lydia you can't do that. You can't just excite a guy and leave him like that. That's rude. Lydia-"

The door closes.

He looks down. Yep, she was definitely winning the battle. "Great," he said, "Now I might have to hate you too."

 

\---

 

It didn't take him long, more like fifteen minutes or so for him to change, iron his shirt, and style his hair. When he found Lydia, she was exactly where she said she would be.

She had a pink drink with either salt or sugar around the base of it. She held it in her hand as she talked to a girl with short blonde hair and a blue dress. Stiles knew she had seen him, she was just pretending that he was of no significance.

It was a game. All a game.

"So, ready to head on out," he said, arriving to a conversation that looked nowhere from being close to done. The blonde girl turns and Stiles was surprised to see that it wasn't actually a girl but actually a guy. Well, he didn't really know how to explain his first encounter with a drag queen because Berkeley's campus didn't really have many of those, so he says, "Oh hey. Hi. Stiles." He said, extending an arm out.

The lady looks at him and eyes him from head to toe. "This is the boo you was talking about?" She looks at Lydia with a lifted eyebrow. Stiles didn't know if he should feel uncomfortable or glad because that gesture was more of a compliment than anything else. "Oh honey," She said, placing a hand on Lydia's knee "Don't let this one out of your sight. I might just about devour him myself!"

Stiles could feel his cheeks turning red.

“Yes. This is my boyfriend, and sorry to leave you hanging Stephaney, but we are beyond late. Our friends might actually commit to skinning us alive tonight.”

Stephaney waves her hand in the air, “Oh go on, go on. Don’t mind me. Do ya thing and remember,” She bats her lashes at Stiles, “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

She stands and gives Lydia a hug first, then as expected turns and gives one to him as well. She had a coconut smell to her, but what made his chest tighten was what she whispered in his ear right after. “The room’s 407.”

On the way to the car, she didn’t want to take him by the arm but he does take her by the waist. Claiming her. He knew he has seen the lingering eyes already.

In the Jeep, Lydia sighs. He hoped that that was a sign of her giving up on this Lydia Martin reign of terror she was attempting to initiate on him. He wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of actually liked it. Her trying, him fighting. Quite a turn on in his opinion.

He laughs, and she eyes him suspiciously. "What?"

"Oh nothing," He smiles, "you're really going to keep this up, aren't you?"

"This isn't a game, Stiles. I'm serious."

This was good. Too good and Stiles was enjoying every last bit of it because he knew how to handle Lydia Martin. She wasn't easy to please but a challenge was always something Stiles was willing to take if it meant seeing Lydia smile because of him.

"So, talking to Stephaney about your 'Boo', a.k.a me, mean ..." He glances at her while still keeping an eye out on the road.

Lydia's eyes widen, and he couldn't help it but take her hand with his free one and hold on tight to it.

"It's okay." He rubs his thumb over her wrist for comfort," I would talk about my boyfriend too if I were you." He winks.

Lydia does a sarcastic "Ha. Ha" and rolls her eyes. A bit melodramatic in his opinion but it was fine. He doesn't take his hand away."Anyways," she said, "Where exactly are we meeting up with the rest?"

He grins, "Meeting who?" he questioned, a playful tone to his voice. Something that tends to piss off Lydia even more when she's already annoyed to begin with.

"Stiles." She warned.

"Lydia." He tightens his grip and glances at her. The streetlights casting a mosaic of colored lights. Her face the canvas of his life.

She glares.

"Okay, okay. So Scott sent me the address. The casino is around here. I'm sure. But, can you get me my phone? It's in the left pocket of my coat."

She reaches for the coat in the back, and he bites his inner cheek. Who knew what her reaction might be. As soon as she got it she starts endlessly chatting about how the casino better be a good one and how hopefully they haven't missed out in anything with major significance or else. But then, as expected, she goes silent. Her eye focused on the bright screen in her hands.

"Stiles," she whispered and he doesn't look at her, but he does grin. "Is this a joke? It better not be or I swear-"

"-Lydia." He cuts her off by placing his hand again over hers again. "Okay, So maybe there was a little change of plans. Do you mind?"

She doesn't respond for a few seconds but when she does she says, " Stop the car." She demands.

"I can't stop in the middle of-"

"Stiles!"

"Alright. Sheesh," He pulls away from the street and parks quickly, biting back a smile. "You know we might miss Ron-"

He gets cut off mid sentence by her sudden kiss that also had him at a mid smile. Hearing her laugh between his mouth right after caused it all. It hit him there. That thing, that moment that made him pull away and realize what exactly was going on between them. It was all in her eyes because they were not surprised nor soulless, but accepting and full of beauty when she pulls away. This wasn’t a simple romance anymore. It was more and he could feel it.

"Stiles." She whispered, stroking the tip of her fingers over his cheek and down to his jaw. It felt right. It felt good. “Oh my god, Stiles.”

His eyes danced from her lips to her eyes, this time he was the one leaning closer. He could feel all the years consumed in memories and want. From their first kiss to their silliest and most awful laughs. How his eight year old self fell in love with her instantly that day in the playground when she never bothered glancing at him the slightest bit. How she never saw him with the same eyes as his until today. And now, he couldn't believe he was here. He was so close. Too close. Feeling the warmth of her full lips radiating to his. 

When his lips met hers, this time he starting the kiss, he realized why this felt different. Why feeling Lydia's lips on his own made everything around him become hazy because the only thing he focused on was her and him. Like this. Together. He realized that she was the only person he was supposed to kiss for the rest of his life, and for one slight moment she became this amazing gift and he wanted to laugh and cry because right there as she kissed him back, both forgetting all the problems, all the struggles, all their constant fights, Stiles felt so lucky that he has found it. He has found her and he was suddenly so scared that it will all go away at the same time.

He pulls away first, breathing heavily. He found himself with a shirt half unbuttoned and her dress above her thighs.

Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, they laugh. He, resting his head on the crook of her neck, and she laughing on the edge of his ear. Both ignoring the stick shift in the middle. Her hands playing with the ends of his hair that curled at the edges.

He pulls away to look into her eyes after taking a deep breath. Although it was dark and there were dozens of people walking down the Vegas Strip, his only focus, his only desire was to look at her and see the beauty she held, not only outside but within as well. He was going to marry her one day. There, sitting in his old wrecked Jeep, he knew that she was the one. He always knew that she was obviously the love of his life from the start, but after three years of officially being together and the constant fighting, the laughter, the problem solving…

Lydia Martin was the one.

“I love you," he mumbled, sliding his fingers along the curve of her neck up to her ear and slightly pulling at the lobe, a smile holding a small laugh on his face. " And you are a horrible person for that."

Lydia bites her lips. "Well," she said, reaching up to guide his face in front of hers, "You drive me pretty crazy as well, Stilinski. And, I don’t know how the hell you do it."

 

\---

 

That evening they get to Ron Pope's performance. The whole time he watched her smile, laugh, and sing along to the lyrics of her favorite songs. Which was obviously everything that came from Ron's mouth.

There might have been a slight second where some type of jealousy build up in him when Lydia screamed Ron’s name or grinned too much while looking at him. She may have talked a bit too much about him and his performance and how good the maroon t-shirt looked on Ron on the way to the restaurant, but Stiles’ listened to it all. Even if it meant forcing a smile out of his lips.

By the time they made it back to the hotel it was 1:38 a.m and despite the long and hot tired day, there wasn’t a single thing he would have like to change about it. It was all too perfect.

He wouldn’t change a thing about it because despite the anger and the sweat and the late hours, it all led to them dancing slowly to one of Ron’s songs he lazily sang in the privacy of their room.

 

“What i’m trying to say

In my own simple way,”

 

Is I want you to be my last

first kiss

I want you to be my last

first kiss”

 

Lydia lays her head on his chest as he continued to sing the lyrics of a song that brought them closer. He knew she loved to laugh at his vocal abilities, but twirling around, giggling at his own silly ways, embracing one another as the roller coaster type of lovers they had become, it didn’t matter if there was vocals or not. These. Yes, these. These were the lyrics that told her everything. The lyrics that caused her to go from a laughing Lydia to a Lydia who held him close and tight without him having to try first. 

 

“Cuz’ my heart, yes, it's finally found

oh

My heart, yes, it’s finally found”

 

He stops. Slowly placing a stand of her messy bun behind her ear. Her eyes were wide and big. He could tell she was trying hard not to cry even though he really wished she did. It was meaningful to him that she didn’t have to hide her emotions from him. For her to trust him enough to open up like this.

Stiles blinks, not letting his own emotions hide.

 

“Someone I can't live without”

 

A tear unleashes itself from her left eye first, he kisses it away with a slow kiss. There was no hurry to pull away, but when he did his chest tightens.

“Marry me,” He whispered, “Lydia, marry me.”

Something immediately rose from his stomach as soon as he said it. Nerves, panic, stress… whatever it was, it combined everything to become one single thing: fear. Maybe it was too soon. Maybe he should have planned out the scene with ring and the beautiful view. Consult with people who knew about this stuff. What those words meant. Maybe something with the friends and the lighting and the romantic dinner. But he said it now, and there was no going back.

He swore that morning the only thing he had in his mind was praying that he wouldn't end up drunk with Scott and Derek and end up putting his lips on a drag’s body, like Stephaney, by the end of the night.

The question came out of no where. Slipped away from his lips without him giving it permission to do so. But then, there was one thing he was sure of from the whole thing. It could have been today or tomorrow or ten years from now, but he knew there was a reason behind the question and why he had said it. It was no mistake. Stiles knew what he felt.

And now that he had said it, there was no going back.

Stiles' love for Lydia was like the half empty half full yellow coffee mug he usually held in the mornings. Whether warm or cold, bitter or sweet, tired or already awake, there was one thing that he knew he couldn't go through the day without, and that was Lydia Martin. The one thing that gave him the instant energy, the smile, and the warmth to his lips and chest. Without her in his life, the days wouldn’t be as bright nor as friendly. She was his lover, his best friend, his bully, and most of all, his future.

“You don’t have to answer that,” he panics immediately.

Lydia laughs a bit. It was more of a slight chuckle than anything else.

She places a hand on his cheek and looks straight into his eyes. Full of life. “I swear,” she said, “If our kids end up as hyperactive as you,” she pauses, and leans in closer to him, barely touching the soft tissue of his lips, “I would be the happiest person alive.”

He freezes and blinks once.

“Does that mean…”

“Obviously, yes. Of course i’ll marry you.”

 

\---

 

What happened in Vegas didn’t exactly stay in Vegas this time.

No. As much as he would have loved to come out of spring break as Mr. and Mrs. Stilinski, they decided to celebrate the rest of the week with many dinners and poker faces for their engagement.

Overall, all that came out from the trip was an engaged couple who might have argued once already over the type of carbonated drink they should and should not be consuming during the ride back. The debate might of went on for a few hours before they got to their next destination. Beacon Hills.

 

A day before going back to campus, they stopped for a not-so-quick-but-initially-quick pit stop. His father gifted him a blue little bag which resulted in Stiles taking Lydia to a playground where a once eight year old Lydia stole his heart.

“It was my mothers,” he said, taking out the ring from the black box. Something simple, something blue. It wasn’t much but Lydia couldn’t help but kiss him endlessly after she drowned herself in tears.

He found it, he really really has.

 

\---

 

After graduation Stiles found a small apartment not far from Lydia’s medical school. She was stubborn last semester when they both attended Berkeley and insisted that dorming was easier and better for a student because she was sure that Stiles plus Stiles plus a place of their own… and more Stiles, would mean endless sex and one hundred percent guaranteed distraction.

“Maybe next year, Stilinski.”

Now it was almost their two year engagement anniversary and Stiles’ date night with Lydia went as usual. Wet pavement that stuck every dried wet leaf onto Lydia’s heels. The fogged night purple sky. The tall buildings and the city lights. Typical city date night.

Tonight they had walked around the lake in front of the restaurant he chose. It’s a thing they came up with to prevent loud discussions over boring foods that bring nothing interesting to the table. Literally.

This is how it worked. Date night plans was switched off between the two. They had a printed map of the city in his apartment above the loveseat in his livingroom area which was also considered part as the dinning as well. (There was no way San Fransisco could go cheaper and bigger with his budget) It was up to either Lydia or Stiles, whoever’s turn it was, to pick a location that they haven't dined in before and place a sticker on the selected place. Her’s was a green star. Stiles went all out and bought 3D mini Spiderman heads for his.

Tonight was his turn and he chose a family owned Philly Cheesesteak sandwich shop a couple blocks away from his place. He actually bought one to go after they were done. "For lunch tomorrow" he shrugs after she gave him the look.

Since it was a Saturday, Lydia stayed at his. It was either a movie or stay under the sheets. Or like usual, start a movie, cuddle, then sex. But that was the thing. Stiles didn't like to think of their physical intimacy as just sex anymore. Surprisingly, he outgrew from his teenage hormonal body and feeling their naked bodies together in unison only proved to him that this was right. This was their future and their life. The future Stilinski’s as one.

He tugs the quilt over them, making sure she stays warm since none of them had a single clothing item on the couch by the time The Notebook was about to end.

He looks deeply into her eyes and bites his lips.

"What?" She said, curiosity taking over her face.

"Stay with me," He whispered.

"That's the plan, dummy," she chuckles out a small laugh. Stroking her fingers on the top of his cheekbone.

He fights the urge to say it but he does. Lydia noticed that it was serious and her smile slips away. "I mean, I want you to move in with me. Stay with me for good now. Not just on Saturdays." He licks his lips and balances himself on his elbows, attempting to sit up.

Lydia sits up quicker, her bare back to him as she hugged onto the quilt from the front. "Stiles you know-"

"-please," he cuts her off mid sentence because he knew what her excuses did to him. " Don't say the whole 'I need to focus' thing. Lydia, we've been engaged for almost two years. I've been trying- really trying- to be patient with you. Because- Because yes, it might be Saturday tonight, but tomorrow there isn't a movie night and there isn't a you. I- I guess- no- I know I want to wake up to having you there every morning, Lydia. Having to see you with that wild hair of yours and those rosy cheeks that end up so red because of sleep. And after that pregnancy scare we both got ourselves into, I don't know, I just really need you to simply- y'know- stay with me. Tonight and every night."

Something attempts to lift from his shoulders but it stays when she doesn't look at him or says a thing right away.

Stiles places a hand of her shoulder, "You don't have to say anything at the moment if you don't want to," he said, even though he wished he hadn't because in reality, Stiles really wanted her to stay. To be that couple that was soon going to marry. Hopefully.

She doesn't turn when she speaks. "You know it isn't that easy."

"We could work together and make it easy."

"Stiles," she tenses up and it makes the hairs on the crook of his neck rise with worry. "I don't think it's going to ever be easy. Stiles, the first thing I thought about when I held that pregnancy test in my hands was, how the hell am I going to to adjust? What are two twenty-three year olds going to do with a baby? Especially in a city like this." She pauses and looks out towards the small window above the sink on the other side of the room. "What about my career?"

Stiles didn't realized when he had moved and had put back on his boxers, but when he did, he found himself on his knees in front of her. Taking both of her hands in his.

"Lydia. Please. Don't take this where I think you are going," he panics a bit, really trying to stay calm and not let his negative thoughts get to him. "Look. I- I know we tend to fight a lot and spend a couple of days without saying a word to each other, but that's how perfect couples work, right? They fight and make up and figure things out. Together."

She closes her eyes. A tear comes out, but this time he wasn't tempted to move up and kiss it away.

"I mean," he continued, "Lydia, we've been together for five freakin' years and engaged for two! I understand that there are bigger priorities like school and focusing, but I swear, please d-don't you ever -ever- leave me. I- I honestly wouldn't know how to live with myself. Look, I won't talk to you when you have to study or have a paper to write if that's what you want. But please -please- don't. Just don't."

Lydia removes her hands from his and he could practically feel everything go hollow in his chest.

She bends over and places a kiss on his cheek, removing a tear or two he didn’t notice they were even there to begin with. Then, what he feared the most happens. She gets her clothing and changes into them away from him.

He didn't watch her leave because he liked to think that the door that had opened and closed was the bathroom’s and she was getting ready to go to bed with him.

 

\---

 

He sat in the couch the whole night waiting for Lydia Martin to come back out with his old Beacon Hills Lacrosse jersey on. Like she always did.

 

\---

 

Eight Saturdays. It took him eight Saturdays for him to realize that the map above the love seat with the stickers had to go down.

She wasn't coming back and maybe it was time for him to find a new home. Somewhere that didn't yell "Lydia Martin" in every deli shop.

"Dad," his breath shakes over the phone he hadn’t dare to pick up..

"Come home, Stiles."

He knew that Lydia had nothing to lose now. She was free.

 

\---

 

The good thing was that he only needed to rent a small UHAUL for four hours to get everything from the city to Beacon Hills. It was only a three hour drive and most of the small things he had decided to leave behind. The bed and, even the couch, came with him though.

"Stay with me," his father insisted when he arrived.

Stiles looks back at the truck full of shit he should had left behind., "No. I think I need to get a place of my own, dad."

"You will," his assured him, placing an arm around him. It had been over half a year since they last seen each other. "But in the meantime, we'll put all your crap in the garage until you settle in. Then, we'll go apartment hunting. How does that sound?"

It sounded like a plan.

Since Stiles worked for SFPD, it wasn't long, more like a couple of days, before he got the position as Deputy Stilinski of Beacon Hills.

He was going to he alright. Or at least, he had hope that he was.

 

\---

 

Even though his apartment was bigger, more like five times bigger than the one back in San Francisco for the same price, his mind still lingered to images of seeing her in that old jersey that reached at mid thigh. Laughing endlessly. Throwing pieces of popcorn to his mouth while he wasn’t looking. The orange glow of her hair intertwined through his fingers…

Eight years. Eight fucken years and her laugh still haunt his dreams. He liked to call them nightmares because that was his fear everytime he got home after a late shift. He feared that no matter all the stress, all the distractions, he would still dream about her. And he did. That was the worst part of it all. Stiles dreamed of that smile, that hair, those arguments, her raspy voice. But it never went away.

He had done everything. From sleeping with beautiful women who looked nothing like her, to going on dates that offered more than low cleavage lines and high heels. Some dates were actually like the real ones with the dinner and movie. Just that when he took someone home, he didn’t let them stay for long and linger around to look at the little things of his place. Like how his favorite coffee mug had a picture of a duck, or how he had quotes around the place from his favorite philosophers, and how he had an actual hand carved marble chess set on his coffee table that Derek had given him. But then again, he didn’t really worry much about those things as much as the framed photograph above his couch. Especially that. He wouldn’t let them stay long enough to notice the five by two black and white picture frame of the golden gate bridge.

If some did manage to ask, he would simply say his father got it at a lame garage sale near the station and continue back to the sloppy kisses. When in reality, Stiles had sent it to be made by a local photo shop. It was taken the first week both he and Lydia had moved to the city in a late summer. Of course not together, but it was when his home was full of boxes and small, and like always, alone.

When Stiles got out of the shower that night, Jorge, his annoying old cat that his father had brought in around the time he was beginning to actually become a member of Beacon Hills again, was by the door frame. Looking at him with wide yellow eyes.

“What now?” Stiles said as he placed the towel on his head, shaking out the excess water.

Jorge elongated himself on the dark wood floor, a clear sign that he has been waiting by the door for a while, and strutted his inside the bathroom.

“Oh, sorry about that buddy,” Stiles turns away, letting Jorge do his nightly business. He never quite understood why he choose to place Jorges litter box in the bathroom when he had the laundry room to start with.

June was on its way to end and if it did no help with Beacon Hills' and the rest of California’s drought. There was no hope from preventing the humid heat from entering at night through his opened window. Even the slight breeze that came in did no help. He had to sleep with a fan set on high and in boxer shorts with a thin bed sheet that usually ended on the floor by the time he woke. Oh, and Jorge. Jorge always made his way to his bed.

Stiles made a quick note to remind himself to call the manager tomorrow during break and ask for his air conditioning to get fixed as he made his way over to the bed. He remembers how it just gave up on him in the hottest day in early June. He somehow knew he had experienced a glimpse of hell that night because when he woke, the sheets were stuck on his skin and lips were cracked. So, a cheap fan from Walmart was the closest thing to a solution.

Falling back, feeling the cool of his skin meet the lightness of the sheets, he heard Jorges light paws make their way down the hall.

“Night Jorge,” he taunts the cat. Jorge doesn’t enter the room until Stiles was deep in his fifth dream of the night.

 

\---

 

Arguing was something he hardly did anymore. Not because of the memories, but because he found his sarcasm as a better alternative to get results faster. At least he knew what to do. It did get him a new air conditioning vent to get installed the next day. But then again, it was probably the badge he wore everyday that intimidated people more than the sarcasm.

Stiles sat behind his desk, which was thankfully located in front of his father’s office. He loved it because he could make disturbing faces to make him uncomfortable through the glass wall standing between the. Especially on days like today, where he triumphfully ate a triple cheese roasted steak club sandwich for winning the argument with the manager of the apartment building. It would make his day less stressful when his father would wince and shake his head because of him. Stiles knew there was nothing better than having two Stilinski’s under the same roof.

It had been a slow week. No more than three liquor shop thefts and two sophomores found smoking pot in the school’s bathroom to start off the week. It would seem silly to him in random moments because of what he had to go through as a highschool student. The werewolves, the were-coyotes, the canimas, the oni, the assassins, and most of all, the banshee.

His banshee.

Thinking about those simple moments when he and she had became this epic duo that came to solve mysteries in order to protect the lives of the people they loved. The crazy world of the supernatural that caused their distinct personalities to come together and create something for the better. A duo who soon fell in love. A duo who had once planned a future together.

Thinking about all that and comparing it to the current problems in Beacon Hills, he had to admit that he missed all the blood and murders and mystery. It kept the station crazy and active. Not having the time to give an eight year deputy an hour lunch break.

The phone rings in the front desk where Barbara was stationed. Usually she got accidental calls Stiles was typically the one to get sent out to check on. Prank or not. But today, there was something different. As soon as she picked up the phone she connected his father to the line.

Stiles sets down the half eaten sandwich and stumbled his way over to the Barbara’s door. Eyes and ears instantly alert behind her desk listening in to the conversation.

 

Barbara: Okay what’s your location?

Caller: Beacon Rd. East of the lake. I… but hurry. Theres a kid in the back.

Barbara: A kid? Okay. We are already sending an ambulance. Are the people in the car alright?

Caller: I don’t know. Theres blood and the engine is smoking up. The lady looks really bad. She isn’t moving.

Barbara: Can you describe them for me?

Caller: Yeah. Okay. She has short dark blonde hair and pale skin. I don’t know mam. The kid has brown hair. He looks about six or seven. Small little thing in the back. I can’t reach him.

 

Stiles didn’t wait to hear the rest, his father had caught him by the collar and says, “Stilinski, you are coming with me.”

 

\---

 

A deer had crossed the road. That was the cause of the accident.

“In this heat?” Stiles questioned as they pulled up. Last time they heard of a deer come out during this time of day was in the spring. Usually the deer came out in the evening to feed during the summer. They liked to stay near the lake.

He could tell that the silver car had badly hit the tree and the ambulance had taken the mother already before they got the chance to look at the scene correctly. They got out when the son was being taken care by the paramedics. Two of the three other deputies who were patrolling the streets were taking look at the deceased deer and another one was talking to the man who found the car in the first place.

“I’m telling you,” The man said, sweat dripping from his bald scalp. The heat, the pressure, the scene all too much for him. “I was coming home from the lake house. My wife wanted me to clean up the place for the holidays. It’s all I got to see.”

Stiles’ dad had more than enough experience to deal with these types of situations. “I’ll take it from here, Perez.” He said.

Deputy Perez nods and walks over to join the other two by the deer. Some of the fire fighters were working on the car, and Stiles did what he knew how to do best. Grab a good understanding and utter control of the scene. Play it out.

It could have been nothing more than a natural everyday accident if it wasn’t for the season. Clearly it worked as any other deer crossing incident. The tire marks on the fading pavement on the road as the car attempted to stop while going at an increased speed limit. The perfectly played out crash into the tree, causing the hood to lift and the window to shatter and the car to flip on it’s side because of the slope on the side of the road.

Everyone was doing their work. Some men worked on pushing the car back to its regular parallel position. The deer was being covered. The kid, who did look about seven or six, looked to have few minor scratches but overall looked to be okay because he sat in the back of the ambulance with an oxygen mask that covered most of his face.

Stiles squints his eyes.

The tiny hands and his deep inhales, following whatever instructions the paramedic was giving him. His ankles crossed.

“I’ll be right back,” Stiles informed his father, not waiting for any permission to make his way towards the boy.

His dark hair covered his eyes a bit. They were a mossy green Stiles swore he would never see again. He could tell it was all a bit too much for the little thing to handle. His eyes swollen because of the tears Stiles didn’t get to see come from him, and there was a bit of dirt on his clothing, but thankfully no broken limbs.

The paramedic brushes her fingers over the boy’s hair. “He’s really brave. There’s nothing wrong with him. The scratches will heal.”

Stiles crouches down to eye level with the boy and smiles. Something that would comfort the boy instead of intimidate him. A way to ask the boy to be his friend without actually opening his mouth to do so.

“hiofwesur” The boy mumbled through the mask.

Stiles laughs and looks at the paramedic, asking with his eyes if it was okay for the boy to talk. She nods. “Hey little guy,” Stiles said, “I’m Deputy Stilinski, but between you and me, I’m Stiles. What’s your name?” He whispered in the end.

The paramedic shakes her head and holds back a small smile as she took the mask away from the boy. Stiles thanks her.

Looking back at the boy, without the mask, Stiles loses his balance a bit. He had a small mole on the dimple of his left cheek and two smaller ones on the tip of his right cheekbone.

He got distracted away from his face immediately when the boy replies.

"Aaron," He says in a tone Stiles knew that if there hadn't been an accident or lights or any of the strange men surrounding him, it would have been as energetic and confident as it could possibly be. Maybe impossible to shut up.

Stiles nods, "Okay Aaron. So, can you tell me where where you and your mom were going?"

Aaron looks at the car behind Stiles and his eyes widen.

"Aaron, don't worry about the car. Look. You have all ten fingers and toes right?" Stiles pokes at his hands. Aaron looks down at them for a slight second and nods. "Well then, thats it. You have nothing to worry about."

Aaron takes a deep breath and looks into Stiles eyes. Trust. He got his trust.

"So," Stiles smiled, "Do you know where you and your mom where going?"

The boy looks down to his hands, "Yes." He mumbled.

"Really? Can I know where?" Stiles squints his eyes with a small crooked smile to assure him that he wasn't some strange cop asking questions he doesn’t really get asked.

Aaron bites his top lip and mumbles, "My grandmas party."

"Fourth of July?"

"Yep."

Both of them raise their eyebrows and sigh at the same time, which ended in both of them laughing at the thought of a summer holiday celebration in this heat.

“Look, buddy-”

“-Aaron.” He corrects him.

Stiles nods, “Aaron. Got it. Well, i’m sure you guys will make it to your grandmas if your mom isn’t missing any fingers or toes. Okay?” He places a hand on his slender shoulder.

Aaron nods and looks down to his shoes. He was small and tough. He expected the boy to be crying and confused at the least, but he was taking things like a real battle. Not letting anything bring him over the edge.

Stiles looks back at his father who was now talking to one of the firefighters who had found a brown purse in the car. It seemed like he had taken out the wallet and looking at the mother’s identity. By the look in his father’s face, Stiles knew this wasn’t just a typical accident. It was more. An actual nightmare.

His father held onto the identification card, eyes furrowed until he looked up at Stiles and back at the boy he had his hand on.

He didn’t realise he was running over to his father’s cruiser until he heard him yell out his name. Of course he ignored him and pulled out, looking one last time at the boy with the mossy green eyes and tiny moles. Not just any boy, but his boy.

Lydia Martin was the mother who had crashed against that tree. It had to be. And Stiles, well Stiles was going to use the cruiser’s light to his advantage and break every law under the State of California traffic manual until he got to the hospital.

 

\---

 

He was allowed to see her because of the badge, but he decided to wait. Something held him in the waiting area and he knew why. It had been so long and this felt like another one of his nightmares, just that this one wasn’t ending.

Mrs. Mccall informed him that she had a broken arm and a couple stitches in her scalp, but nothing a few sedatives couldn’t fix. Also, she had to stay the night to make sure her brain didn’t swell up because of how hard she had hit the headboard apparently.

His father walked in when the hospital’s hallways when they were only being walked by the late shift nurses.

“I knew you’d be here,” His father said as he took the seat to his right. A cup of coffee being handed to him, and Stiles took it, slightly looking at his father’s face. He knew that it wouldn’t be a pleasing one. He knew his son was just damaging himself even more.

“Aaron. Dad, he’s..." He couldn’t finish the sentence. It was hard to believe and he was scared that if he did say it, he might actually believe it and for all he knew, he could be totally wrong.

“Stiles, don’t make assumptions you could soon regret.”

“No, you don’t understand. It’s like, I don’t know, but I just know.” He says in a shaky voice, placing the hot liquid by his lips.

For the past few hours, all he did was think and calculate. Eight years ago Lydia ended things because she wanted to focus on her medicine, but then Aaron looked the age like the man who had found them had said. About six. Maybe seven. But like always, there had to be more for Stiles. More to the story. Stiles was a late bloomer too. The smallest and lankiest kid in his grade up until his junior year in high school. There could be a possibility, unless…

“Where is he?” Stiles demanded.

“Mrs. Martin came and picked him up from the station a while ago,” He sighed, a tired expression all along his face. Stiles could see that the years were starting to take a toll on his father. Soon the long nights and the deer accidents are going to be a bit of a hassle for him.

Stiles remembers seeing Mrs. Martin for the first time in a while a couple hours ago. Thankfully she didn’t recognize him because he hid his face, but to Stiles she looked the same, just with shorter hair and a thinner face. He remembers passing by the vacant Matin house for many years. He expected them to sell the thing, but everytime he passed by it to go to work, there was never a sign that said it was for sale. And today, well, today he understood why. They had plans of returning.

Mrs. Martin had entered Lydia’s room for more than an hour and had left, maybe because of what his father had said, because of Aaron.

“Did she- y’know- file information about him?” Stiles says, holding tight onto the cup. The blue tiles on the floor reflecting the bright yellow lights became a good thing to focus on and keep somewhat calm.

He hears his father sigh again. “Stiles, he’s turning eight in September.”

Stiles’ head immediately gives him all his attention. Eyes wild with questions. “Dad, I think he actually is-”

“I think so too, Stiles. But I don’t want to say anything until we are for sure. I mean, the kid is practically a mini you. Have you seen his face? It would be crazy if he wasn’t.”

Stiles grips onto the cup. A sudden anger consumes the veins in his arms. He didn’t want to think of the moment when he had to confront her about this. Especially if it were true, that Aaron was his. His. A son that was taken from him since the start. All the pain and tears and hurt he had to go through to be where he is now today.

Even though his father insisted that Stiles went home to sleep, he stayed. Mind blank or not, he was going to be there to see her walk out of the room. Watch her expression, the stitches on her head, the missing years go through her eyes the moment he lays his on hers.

No, he was not going to leave.

Nobody could make him leave. They never could take him out of here anyways.

\---

 

She was strong, he always knew that.

Her strength was enough to get her up from the awful medical bed and get the doctor to discharge her early in the morning right before lunch. It was clear that a Doctor knew how to negotiate with another Doctor in the business.

Her mother had came in, alone, to pick her up.

Stiles hanged by the receptionist and watched Lydia’s mother wheel out her daughter. Initially he had given Lydia’s mother his back to hide, but for Lydia he froze when he laid his eyes on her.

Her smile, her hair, her green, green, eyes.

She was the same beauty he had remembered. Just that this time her hair was straight and the length of her chin and definitely not the dark blonde the man had said for it to be. No, not dark blonde. But her blonde. Strawberry blonde. And as always, it looked amazing on her round face.

Her lips part a bit and her eyes suddenly become sad upon seeing him. “Stiles,” she said. It was more of a deep breath than a whisper.

The sound of her voice hurt. It really did and he could feel the wound she had left in him was still there, unable to be healed after so many years. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, but he decided to stay.

Mrs. Martin looks away and said that she’ll give them the moment to talk.

“No.” Lydia said quickly, stopping her mother with her free hand. “Not here. Why don’t I- Why not at the house?” Lydia looks at Stiles. It was clear that she expected him to answer but he didn’t. Stiles was still in shock because she was here. Actually here. In a blue sundress with a beige cardigan. To his surprise, she was wearing flats for the first time in her life. But then again, Stiles missed eight years of it.

“Oh honey, I don’t think the house is a good place to-”

“-No okay. Well how about we grab some coffee later on?” Lydia nods, making sure it was okay with him.

Stiles looks at Lydia’s broken arm. “Sure. Whatever.”

 

\---

 

When they met, Stiles was in uniform straight off from work. The hour break he got for the late shift could fly by immediately if they didn't get to it. Maybe she didn’t notice it in the hospital since he wore it all night long, but he did change out of it into a clean one from his place. He couldn't leave Jorge without food or water.

At least now he had an actual reason to return home.

The sky was at it’s orange peach phase when he arrived to the bakery downtown. A couple of clouds created the perfect landscape for such a summer evening. To bad he knew this was going to end far from perfect.

Stiles knew how things could go with a person like her. It wouldnt be a surprise if they ended up getting kicked out from the place. Odds were probably really high, so maybe that’s why she chose to sit in the fenced area out front.

She had her hair tucked behind her ears, as short as it was, it still looked like as a great compliment to the olive green dress. A piece of clothing that twisted his insides with memories he wished to burn away from his mind. It might not be the same short tight dress she had worn many years ago, but it was the same color, and it didn’t fail him to remember all that it did to him that night.

The night she agreed to be his. Forever.

She eyes his badge and looks down the glass of water she had in front of her, “Well, this is not awkward at all,” She said. Fingers doing the im-nervous-but-i’m-not-going-to-show-it stretch.

“Look, you got an hour to explain whatever you have to explain before I have to head back to the station,” He sits down, not knowing where the bitterness had came from. But he wasn’t going to apologize for it. That he was really sure of.

Lydia shoots him annoyed glare. Clearly her old ways were still in there. He didn't know why he expected them to change.

“Not with that attitude,” She demanded, setting her lips in a thin line.

“Attitude?” He laughed a bit. Seriously feeling the urge to yell at the girl.“Lydia, what? I’m sorry but did you expect a, ‘oh hey. Yeah. You are beautiful. Nice to see you again. Oh, and beautiful kid by the way. Got his mother’s eyes and his father's fucken face?’”

Her eyes go wide. Some people turned at the sound of his voice but didn't longer their attention to them. Her teeth don’t fail to keep tight as she says, “ I seriously didn’t know you had moved back here.” Clearly she was fighting to keep her face strong and bullet proof.

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and throws another simple laugh. A waiter came by and asked him if he could get him anything, he denied everything offered and danced his eyes from her condensing cup to the way her lips twitched at the annoyance she clearly had already build up.

“Oh, so what?” He finally said after sending the waiter away, “Did you really expect to keep him a secret from me forever, Lydia? And don’t you dare say he isn’t mine,” He leans over the round table. His voice low in whisper but strong in tone. “Because,” He flared his nose, “That would be the most utterly stupidest thing that could have ever came from that little pouty mouth of yours.”

He was winning. It was clear his words were affecting her. Digging deep into her skin. And what surprised him the most was the feeling of doing all this. He liked it. He actually liked that she was feeling bad. Honestly, he knew that if it wasn’t for his moral instincts and conduct, he would have broken a table or two by now. Gone crazy because his son had been stripped away from his life for almost a decade.

“I don’t even know what to think of you anymore, Lydia.” He shook his head, looking at the passing cars. The sky had gone to twilight. A gray blue that still yelled summer, passion, and smiles. Funny how the love of his life was on the verge of tears. "I really can't," a steady voice said.

"You aren't even going to let me explain, are you?" She said, tilting her head to the side. Realizing that this was useless for her. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. It was clear.

“What’s there to explain?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You know what? This is pointless.” She begins standing and Stiles doesn’t stop her from leaving. Whatever she had to say, he wasn’t ready to hear. When it was clear that she had left the building, he paid for the water and left a tip on the table for the waiter that had to put up with him.

When Stiles got back to the station, his father had already left. It was dim and actually cold in the building because it was only him and three other deputies waiting for any serious calls that were worth the gasoline to get to the destination. The place was pretty haunting if anyone asked him.

He didn’t get up from his desk for the next four hours.

 

\---

 

The next morning he took his regular early shift to get back on schedule even though it had became really hard for him to sleep at night. New air conditioner or not, the bed felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t soft or fresh. He was even awake to see Jorge jump on the bed around three a.m.

“Ah. You look like shit,” His father said, patting him on the back as that both made their way inside the building. He offers him a bite of the croissant he held. Stiles declined.

“Thanks dad. You’re a charmer yourself.” Stiles scowled.

His father tells him to meet him inside his office. Something about the deer situation he wanted to discuss with Stiles. And what was better than going straight to work first thing in the morning?

Stiles doesn’t sit but goes on the other side of the desk to get a better look of what his father had gathered up. Obviously it was many manila folders and highlighted areas that had nothing to do with the deer.

“What’s this?”

“This,” His father taunts him with a very open eyed expression as he turned to him, “Is the only way I am going to get a hold of my son and attempt to help him.”

Stiles rubs his eye before his stood up to make his way out of the office. There wasn’t a need to talk. There was nothing to say.

“Stiles.” His father’s raised voice stops him right at the door. “Sit. Down.”

He could feel his shoulders tense, his knuckles ache, his breathing increase. He didn’t want to admit that it was hurting him. All this news. Aaron, Lydia, the years. The betrayal. And what hurt him the most was one single thing. Something that ate up the all the anger within.

He turns, knowing that his eyes displayed all the emotions within, “Dad, I still love her. There's nothing more to say.”

 

\---

 

By lunch time, it turned out that Scott had seen Lydia by his veterinary with Aaron. Of course he immediately called Stiles to inform him about Beacon Hill’s latest news. Once Stiles took most of his lunch break to tell him the whole story beginning with the deer over the phone, Stiles could tell that it was hard for Scott to show some sort of support.

“And, are you sure Aaron is yours?” Scott said.

“I mean any DNA test will only prove what I already know…” Stiles leans his forehead on his palm. The clock ticking its minutes until he had to get back to the useless case with the sophomore boys. His father wanted him to find out who was supplying them. 

He hears Scott sigh.

Stiles knew he was lucky to have someone like Scott around even though they didn’t hang out as much like their teenage days. He would feel bad that five years with Lydia caused him to distance himself so much from him. After San Francisco, leaping in Scotts arms was the only remedy that could take his mind off of Lydia for the first few seconds.

Stiles hears the front door open and Barbara’s voice speak as they assisted whoever came by. Curiosity simply took him by surprise when he saw her there. Looking lost and obviously out of place.

“Hey Scott?” Stiles’ voice gets tense. And Scott notices.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Stiles starts removing the phone from his ears, “I’m going to have to get back to you, alright?” Without letting Scott reply he hangs up and stands. Lydia's eyes immediately jump from Barbara to him.

“I got this,” He informed Barbara, she gives him a questioning look but doesn't bother to ask.

Lydia looks down for a second before looking him in the eye. This time they weren’t filled with evil, but something more friendly. Apologetic. It caused him to feel an inner guilt that was masked underneath by all the anger, but he doesn’t use any of it.

“What do you want?” He said, brows coming together. He wasn’t going to smile one bit or show her mercy. There was no need for any of that.

“I uh,” She began, looking back at Barbara, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Do you think,” She winced, shaking her head a bit. He could tell she was either nervous or regretting coming here in the first place. “Well I was actually wondering if you wanted to um… come to the lake house tomorrow? My mother is hosting the barbeque.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, but eventually does accept.

 

\---

 

Usually when the town was out throwing highly flammable objects in the air and grilling whatever they could get their hands on, the stations of Beacon Hills were out patrolling the streets and waiting to hear a call of someone who has either burned their hair or taken the house down. But hair tended to be a more popular vote.

The Sheriff ordered him to attend Lydia’s. He was actually looking for an excuse so he could avoid him going off on Lydia in any moment, but then again, he could actually be near Aaron without the uniform. So he ended up arriving around midday. A good time to find them, and other people he had never seen, by the lake under trees and tents.

He doesn’t remember the last time he drove his car during the daylight, not the cruiser. But when he did arrive, with a bottle of wine in hand, he was immediately taken by surprise when a small familiar small voice yells, “Heads up” resulting in a soccer ball kissing his face.

It didn’t surprise him to see that Aaron was the one who had kicked it in the first place.

“Stiles!” He immediately said after recognizing him.

He began running up the small hill towards Stiles while Stiles himself was rubbing his eye. A quick fist bump was the first thing they did once they were a few feet away from one another.

“Soccer eh?” Stiles crossed his arms, bottle still in hand.

Aaron scratches his head, “Yeah… I’m not really that good at it.”

“Huh. I bet,” Stiles’ mumbled.

Aaron laughs a little and throws a small punch towards Stiles’ midsection while bending over to pick up the ball. “Bet you can’t beat me,” he challenged. Throwing the ball once in the air, an eyebrow raised.

Cocky. Stiles didn’t have to think where that trait came from. He already had her eyes, why not her confidence as well?

“You’re sure about that?” Stiles laughs, “Let me warn you. You don’t know who you are messing with, Aaron.”

Aaron throws the ball in the air again before he catches it and says, “Whoever loses has to pull mom’s hair.”

Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Wow kid, you must make your mom go through hell.”

“Not all the time,” Aaron winked and throws the ball in the air again. “So what? Are you in or not?”

The ball lands back on Aaron’s small hands. He was quite small for his age, but the boy had the mind of a ten year old. Maybe older. Stiles felt an urge to tackle to boy, but not because he wanted to just for fun, but because he wanted to hold him and tell him that he was his father. That he didn’t know how, but he was going to stay. For good. But he wanted to make up for all the lost time.

So, Stiles sets the bottle aside and takes the ball from Aaron’s hands.

 

\---

 

Maybe he should have brought in another pair of spare clothing to change into. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to challenge a kid with energetic legs that could run circles around him. Maybe he should of not agreed to any challenge because the score was 3-5 and he had lost.

"Nope. That's not fair." Stiles said, laying down on the grass. A hand over his eyes. Breathing trying to stabilize. "I thought you said you weren't good."

Aaron throws the ball to Stiles’ stomach which made him take his arm off his eyes and wince at the boy. He had a wide grin and striking eyes. There was no doubt that he's seeing his own reflection. 

"Here comes mom," Aaron whispered quickly when he bends down to get the ball. "A deal is a deal."

Stiles sighs and covers his eyes again. So yes, maybe he did get his ass whooped by practically and eight year old. But he blames his legs. He doesn't remember the last time he went out for a run for the hell of it or even kicked a ball. Especially a soccer ball.

“Aaron, leave him alone,” Lydia’s distant voice yelled. It was a bit humorous and Stiles’ arms lift him up so he could support his aching body on his elbows.

Lydia was walking over from the tent he hadn’t really paid attention to. She was wearing a red flowy dress and shoes he surprisingly knew that were called wedges. He still remembers the 101 lesson on the different types of heels she had given him when he called her mary janes, stilettos.

Aaron frowns and raises his eyebrows at Stiles, directing his annoyance with his mother. Stiles had to admit that it was a bit funny so he lets out a small laugh before Lydia reached them.

“So,” She grabed onto Aaron’s shoulder, “I see you guys have met.”

How the sentence was phrased made a kind of weird wave run through him. Stiles wasn’t a family friend. He was Aaron’s father. He was supposed to meet him eight years ago. Not at the scene of a car crash.

But Stiles decides to play along and says, “Oh yeah. We’re best buds,” Winking at Aaron right after.

She smiles and looks down at Aaron, brushed her fingers with her good arm over his hair. Allowing his eyes to be seen.

“Mom, I beat Stiles at soccer,” Aaron said, smiling triumphfully. 

“Hey, you got lucky this time. Bet you can’t beat me at baseball,” Stiles fought back, beginning to stand up. He could already feel the connection. They way it looked for others who happen to see the three of them. Standing in a green field, together. The family they never got to be. So, he takes a step back.

A friend. Aaron knew him as a friend.

Aaron looks up at his mother and they chuckle a quick laugh.

“What?” Stiles questioned.

“Aaron was part of the little league state tournament this year,” Lydia widens her eyes. Her lips come together in a tight line. The type of news that held Stiles’ chest in place. A feeling of thrill and excitement all because of his son. His son and the sport he loved the most. 

“What?” Stiles lifts his arms in the air, a huge smile on his face. The type that had to hurt afterwards. “No way! Aaron, you. You like baseball?”

“Love, actually.” He corrected him, again with the raised eyebrows.

When Aaron ran off to play with other kids, Lydia and him were left at a complete silence. He could feel her eyes on him as her looked at Aaron run off. The sudden happiness to have them near washed away the moment Aaron left. It became consumed by the reminder of betrayal and hurt because this shouldn't have been the first time he should have seen Aaron laugh, smile, and run around. The first time to know that his little boy didn’t only know how to play sports, but also loved baseball. He could only imagine what it would be like to see Aaron with a bat in his hands for the first time. Thats if he ever gets to see it happen at all.

“Why?” He whispered. His eyes starting to be consumed by angry tears he wasn’t going to let go.

“Why what?” She said.

Stiles turns. It was painful to look at her with angry eyes. He wanted to interchange them with the love he had. With kisses and smiles and forget. Forget that all of this has happened. But then again, this was his life. This was real. He had to face it and see what happens because she left him with nothing at all.

“Why did you take all of this away from me?” He breaths.

It took him to say it outloud to realize what all this actually meant. There was a life he was supposed to know. A life he was supposed to experience and film with his own eyes. Not only his imagination. Like watching her stomach grow, see their apartment with colors, and smiles, and most of all with a baby boy who kept them up at night. A life where he took care of his son while she went to school, and he would go to work when he could during the night. A life where she was already his wife and they returned to Beacon Hills together with a big home of their own. In the same silver car. Letting the people who looked at them actually believe what their eyes saw. They were happy and nothing could have changed a thing about it.

Lydia looks at the wine on the grass and says, “Why don’t you help me bring some things from the house?”

In other words, Lydia wanted to talk away from the public eye.

 

\---

 

He started with the simplest of questions. They were in the kitchen, both on either side of the pale marble island standing between them.

“Did you actually love me?”

“Of course I did, Stiles. I always did.”

“Then why didn’t you think we could have worked this out?”

“Because, I was scared, okay?”

He looks over to the window and lands both of his palms on the cold counter. His lips allow a small sigh to come out along with a shake of his head. “Unbelievable,” he whispered. “Fucken unbelievable.” 

She doesn’t comment on it, so they stay like minutes like that. Letting the silence consume their thoughts.

He never came to see a scared Lydia Martin. That wasn’t one of the traits that came with her. If it did, maybe evil was the one who hid it away, because she always knew what to say or do or face. Always had the answers even if she didn’t believe she actually had them. He could feel his veins heating up with a strong tension that wanted him to scream and shout all the horrible things she made him go through. How awful she was. But he doesn’t.

“Do you really expect me to believe that, Lydia?” He said, the sound of her name on his tongue familiar but distant at the same time. Like it wasn’t welcome to stay anymore. “You? Scared? I don’t thinks so.”

“Well I was! Okay?” her voice shook. Her eyes were the predator that challenged the threat. He had became the threat.

“No.” He pointed straight at her, “No. That’s not enough. If you really want me to understand, you really have to explain everything. Every. Thing. Okay?”

Her jaw tenses, clearly not liking the Stiles who stood four feet away from her. He was a side she never got to experienced because just like her, the years had changed him too. He wasn’t going to let himself fall again. Not this hard. Not even with the past that came back to actually haunt him in reality.

“Okay, Stilinski. Fine. But I warn you, it’s a lot.”

“Go ahead. I have all the time you need.”

She does the same eyeroll he had onced loved, but this time he saw it as something that showed her child like behavior. Something he was tired of and beyond the things he would like to put up with.

“It was hard for me too, okay? I didn’t know I was pregnant with Aaron when I left you. I guess it happened when well, y’know, I left. I didn’t go home right away. I cried and cried in that damn stairwell of your apartment building. Part of me wanted to run back into your arms and say, ‘Yes. I’ll stay with you’ but then something told me that I had already done the first half, might as well finish the second half and let you be that guy who didn’t have to do all this for me. You didn’t work as a cheap bike deputy in San Francisco because you loved it, no. I know you stayed in that torn down apartment and shitty job because of me. And that wasn’t fair, okay?” She crossed her good arm over the bad one.

He leans on his elbows and runs his hands over his hair, sighing. “God Lydia, I didn’t care if my job and home was shit, okay? You should have known that.”

“No,” She fought back. Her tone strong. “I wasn’t going to be selfish and let you spend all these years waiting for me. I knew what you love, what you liked, and what you wanted to do. And okay, maybe I was be part of that list, but I had to leave so you could have the rest. Let you live life correctly. Not only wait for Saturdays to come.”

Stiles doesn’t remove his head from his palms. He decided it was best to hide his facial expressions. This was unbelievable. Literally felt like the biggest made up shit he has ever heard.

“I can see that Aaron didn’t distract you from your studies, Doctor.” He mumbles, and Lydia understood because she spoke immediately.

“I was three months pregnant when I found out! By that time I only had two more months until the semester ended for summer vacation and according to the calculations I was set to give birth by the end of summer. My mother moved immediately and helped me. She’s been with us since then.”

She told her mother instead of him. Three months after she broke up with him, he was still there in the city. It was the fourth month when he left for good. She could have prevented it all.

“And you didn’t think of telling me, Lydia?” He says, still not looking up. Voice strained. Hands fisting the stands of his hair.

She takes a moment to respond. “I did.”

“Then what stopped you.”

“Nothing. I was scared to see how you’d react. When he was born, I swear that I needed you there. I saw Aaron’s green eyes and dark hair. He was so tiny and so-”

“- Stop!” Stiles yelled, lifting his hurt gaze to her. Eyes wet, he didn’t know with what emotion. Either anger, stress, or pain. Somehow he couldn’t take it. He didn’t want to be told how his son lived his life because he wasn’t there. “You can’t do that. Don’t say that you needed me, okay? Don’t say that you needed me to be there when you were the one who left me there. It’s not fair. Lydia, you left me with nothing. Nothing, okay? Everywhere I looked, everything I touched, everything was yours. You took my whole life away in a second, and I think I honestly hate you for that.”

His voice had risen, and he looks away towards the window. Aaron was in the water. His little Aaron.

Looking back at her he whispers, “Lydia, I can file charges against you. You know that right?”

She nods. “I know you can.”

“I’m really thinking about doing it.”

“Then do it. I won’t stop you.”

He swallows, “It’s not going to change anything though. It’s not like Aaron will ever see me as his dad. So it’s pretty much useless.”

Lydia reaches for his hand, he doesn’t look away from it. Her small fingers, the hold of his breath, the bite of his tongue. Her touch shouldn’t make him do things like this anymore. It should have made his body retrieve and get as far away from her. But instead, he closes his fingers over hers.

Their eyes meet. She had tears.

“He’s asked about you,” She said. “I’ve told him that adult things happened and you couldn’t be with us at the moment.”

He closes his eyes, the wet eyelashes sticking to one another. “He’s a bright kid, Lydia.” He took a breath, tightening the grip of her hand before he lets go and slides his hand inside his jean pocket.

“I want to tell him. If you let me.” She explained, walking around the island.

He turns away from her before she could be so near, and takes the potato salad like they were supposed to do minutes ago.

“Not now. I can’t forgive you so easily.”

 

\---

 

Lydia decided to move to Beacon Hills, but she couldn’t decide one day and move the next. Mrs. Martin to take care of Aaron and enroll him at the elementary school while Lydia went back home and transfer to Beacon Hills hospital. Of course they accepted her immediately. Though it took Stiles about a month to see her again.

Stiles would take Aaron out to the park and play catch in most evenings when he was off from work early. Aaron would be more than thrilled to know that his “buddy Stiles,” was willing to teach him more tricks and tips on baseball. Stiles didn’t mind what Aaron called him as long as he still wanted to hang out with him. Mrs. Martin couldn’t agree more. It was good for them to spend time together.

When Lydia finally came back, he didn’t let it get to him when instead of Mrs. Martin opening the door for Stiles, it would be her. It went on like that for the rest of the summer. When school began, Aaron began the little league again so he offered to take him to the team practices in the evenings. That was good too.

A week before his birthday when Lydia was on the late shift, Stiles took him out for pizza after practice. Aaron surprised him by throwing a spare straw at him when they were half way into a whole pizza.

“What was that for?” Stiles laughed, picking up the straw from his lap and throwing it back. It missed.

“I’m not betting with you anymore. Ever,” Aaron said, trying not to smile as he crossed his arms. Something he did a lot and Stiles wouldn’t want him to stop doing that at all. Even if it meant that Aaron was mad at him.

It took Stiles a moment before he realized what Aaron was referring to. “Oh,” he said, looking down at the half eaten pizza slice. “You didn’t tell your mom about it. Did you?”

Aaron mugs him, “Duh. But I did ask her if you had pulled her hair. She said no.”

“Aaron!” Stiles’ eyes widen, not believing the awkward moments this boy could cause when he would finally see her. “Why on earth would you do that? That was like three months ago.”

Aaron throws a hard laugh, causing the cashier to look over at them. He was missing a tooth in the back and the molar was barely starting to come out. 

“I know, but I didn’t forget,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows.

Going back to the pizza on the plate and taking a bite of it, Stiles couldn’t believe it. This boy did have the brains and the gestures. Now he knew what his father had meant that he went through hell with him. He wonders how Lydia and her mother must have it.

“You had to be Lydia’s son, didn’t you?” He flicks a piece of pepper that had landed on the burgundy faded table instead of the plate. Aaron ignores it and nods, a sauced covered smile was directed back to Stiles. An image he was sure not going to forget because it made Stiles look down at his food and smile at it too. This was nice. It was nice to have Aaron around.

“Stiles,” Aaron puts the pizza down and takes a sip of the carbonated drink they debated about. Stiles really wanted him to get lemonade or any other type of juice. But either way, Aaron’s tone sounded more like a question to him.

“Yes?”

“You went to school with mom, right?” He said, without joking this time. He was playing with a paper napkin, the question obviously something Aaron wondered about.

Stiles thought about it. Either telling him the truth or make something up.

“Well,” Stiles began, “Yes. I did. We were in the same grade. Actually, we even went to the same school you go to right now.”

Aaron looks at his cup, staring but not saying anything right away. He was thinking, wondering, and most of all, trying to piece the things together.

“Stiles?” He questioned, taking his attention away from the cup and looks up at him. His eyes full of life and full of Lydia. It gave Stiles a cold chill around his body. A reminder of all the beautiful memories and moments when Lydia’s eyes weren’t soulless or hard. When she actually had life and it was all because of him.

“Yes?” he coughed.

“How did you and mom become friends?”

Aaron’s smile ruined his insides. The boy was obviously too excited to know how Stiles came into his life even before he even knew him. The least to say was, it was painful. He didn’t expect such a question. Especially when he wasn’t ready to keep a straight enthusiastic face while talking about such memories he once thought were meant to be.

“Well,” he choked up a bit, trying to change the tone of voice. “I remember she was always the prettiest girl in the play ground. I think - yeah- I think I was your age. About eight when I figured out why other boys liked to pull her strawberry blond curls that landed right above her hips. And to be honest, I swore I thought she was not real. I never did pull one of her curls though. She was a bit scary, and was scary throughout the years. Around fifth grade I had my first class with her. She sat like two seats away from me, and even though I tried to focus on the lesson, I would watch how her pink pen would glide so easily on her paper. My handwriting was at its worst stage, so you can only imagine how much I admired your mother’s handwriting,” he pauses and looks down. Hands began to play with a paper napkin before he continued. “The first time I talked to her, like an actual a conversation, was seventh grade. We got paired up for a volcano class project. I went over to your grandmas and she offered me a sandwhich. I gotta say, never ate a better sandwich in my life! So count yourself lucky.”

Aaron laughs. His eyes were wide with curiosity and amusement. So Stiles continues.

“Your mom did most of the work though, and did the talking in class when we presented. I asked her what I could do because I had so many ideas, she told me that I could get the paper mache glue ready. That was literally the only thing I did, and the only thing we actually said to one another. I’m telling you, she was mean. But anyways, we became friends in high school. So, you could say that I met her there. It was like reading an old diary, y’know. You never knew why or how you started it, but now, suddenly that diary is the only important thing to you because you learn so many things about yourself that you didn’t see there before. That was who your mother was for me. An old diary. I didn’t realize we had actually became close friends until we figured out with we both learned things about one another when he were together. But she was still mean though. That never actually stopped.”

He thought he was done when his throat began to be sore. This was actually a bit painful. He told an eight year old how he and his mother had fell in love without actually telling him the little details of it. Like how one day he had a panic attack and his mother had kissed him so he could hold his breath. How somehow their hands would touch and he just knew that this was something different. How they spent their last year holding hands in the halls and went to the same college. Something more. The little things that added up to saying the words he wanted Aaron to know. That he was his father, not only a friend. But it wasn’t right. At least not now.

Aaron lifts his eyebrows and does a smooth eyeroll. He had aced the gesture by now. “Mom shouldn’t have been mean to you. You are nice.”

“No, wait. You got it all wrong,” he said immediately. He didn’t want Aaron to go to Lydia and confront her with this. “ I liked her mean anyways. Like, without her being mean, she wouldn’t be the Lydia I came to know. Get me?”

Aaron shows a wide grin immediately.

“What?” Stiles said, taken aback. Eyes wide and a bit scared. Aaron was a bit unexpected. “You didn’t think I could handle your mom?”

“No, not that.” He says, the grin still in place. It might have gotten wider, but Stiles was to focus on what this boy might actually surprise him with.

“Then?”

“You liked my mom, didn’t you?”

Stiles might have gotten a minor heart attack. “What? Me? No. Never.”

Aaron points his finger at Stiles, practically jumping off from the seat. “Liar! You did. You liked my mom. You liked her.”

Stiles looked around, some faces turned and he could feel his cheeks grow warm. He rests his head in his hands, letting Aaron humiliate him all he wanted. The boy was smiling and laughing and jumping. Stiles wanted to laugh and smile along with him because of the scene and Aaron’s high pitch voice, but he keeps his face in his hands until Aaron stopped.

Stiles looks up and places his chin on his palm. Bats his lashes at him. “So, you’re not telling your mother about this. Right?”

 

\---

Lydia arrives the same time as Stiles and Aaron.

He doesn't look her in the eye when he turns away to leave.

“Thanks for taking him out,” She said, positioning herself right on the door. Neither entering or leaving. It was an unpredictable position. She might leave or enter her home and he wouldn’t see it coming.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me for this, Lydia. This isn’t me doing favors,” He said, his back towards her. Hands clutching to his sides, “This is me being his father.”

 

\---

 

“The birthday party is today right?” the Sheriff said, leaning behind Stiles’ desk.

Stiles looks away from the screen, and gives father a questionable gaze. Not the whole divided attention the man deserved. But it was close enough to show that he was listening to whatever he had to say. 

“Yes. It’s Aaron’s birthday party today,” He nods, showing no significance in the whole topic when in reality it did. But it bothered Stiles for people to get in his personal life. Even if it was his own father trying to get in it. Recently from Scott to his father, they both have been really trying to talk some sense to him and attempt to try to fix things with Lydia. He wouldn’t listen.

Usually, he would end up cursing both of them out. He felt like they didn’t really understand him.

“Then?” His father questioned him, “Why they hell are you sitting down here? Get your ass up and go to that damn party.”

Stiles sighs and looks away from him. “Leave me alone.”

One thing led to the other, and next thing Stiles knew was his father had pulled him up by the ear and dragged him to his office. This time the door and blinds closed. The station was used to seeing both argue like this. So if the the glass walls didn’t keep their voices in, it was nothing knew. Just a usual Stilinski conversation at the station.

He sat Stiles down, causing him to cross his arms and not look at him.

“Stiles,” The man said, an exhausted look masked his face. “Do you mind telling me what the hell is going on with you? I swear all you’ve been doing for the past three months is work, go to pick up your son, sleep, and repeat. Is that how you are planning of living the rest of your life?”

“I might,” Stiles said, a monotone tone. “I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

The sheriff leans on his desk and stares down at Stiles. Stiles looks up and met his eyes brown cold eyes. He knew that he was right. Stiles shouldn’t be doing this to himself. 

“Stiles, you can’t do this to yourself. Stop- just. Stop sleeping around and commit yourself to you and your family,” He said, rubbing his temples.

Stiles looks up. “Ha. My family. You’re getting funnier dad. Really are.” 

“This isn’t a joke, Stiles. Stop fearing commitment.”

“Commitment?” Stiles laughed. Knowing exactly who was responsible for his actions. “You think i’m afraid of committing myself to my son? I don’t fear commitment. I fear wasting my time.”

He and his father stay like that. The silence of the old office a bit haunting. This had became their life. This office, these walls, the same old black lamp that has fell more times that Stiles could even remember.

Stiles could see that his father is trying. Everyone is. But they didn’t understand his pain. What this betrayal has done to him. It’s still hollow in his chest. He knew it will never be filled and stitched back up.

“I know this isn’t easy, Stiles,” his father began, this time his voice delicate and soft. Of someone who cared. “I just really want you to think about what you are doing here. To Aaron. What do you think he feels when he sees a boy with his father?"

Stiles shakes his head, “Do you know how much thinking and feeling i’ve done because of her? It’s terrible. Really really terrible,” His head falls onto his palms, knees going weak. He felt like letting go. Telling his father that crying has been the only thing he couldn’t do, but wanted to. “ And you know what’s worse?” he continued in a whisper, “nothing’s come of it. She took five years of my life in one hand and crushed it in a second, and she right years of Aaron from me. I don’t think I could ever forget that.”

He felt a hand land on his shoulder. Fingers closing softly. He realizes that he was crying, letting his father see what a mess this has all become. 

“Think about your mom. You were Aaron’s age and it was just me and you,” He said softly. “At eight, you were left without a mother and Aaron is fortunate to have his right by his side. Don’t take his father away from him.”

Stiles shakes his head. Trying to erase the images of his home the few days without his mother day. How days became weeks, then months, and years. How no matter what, he needed both of his parents. His dad needed his mother. The bitter dinners, the rushed school lunch in the mornings.

His father was there to take care of him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed both, and Aaron had both.

Stiles cries even harder and tugs on his father’s arm, pulling himself up into him. Comfort and warmth. Stability and shelter. He could feel it in his tired arms , how he got to watch them go from lean and strong to still being able to hold him up despite the age and the problems. His father’s love was like his personal soldier.

This was a father.

Aaron didn’t loose his father because Lydia had taken him away from. It was also Stiles’ fault. He was preventing himself as well.

“If you don’t fight for what you want, don’t cry for what you’ve lost,” He whispered. Hand softly rubbing Stiles’ tense back.

Stiles pulls away, and looked him in the eye. He opens his mouth to apologize and thank him for everything. He knew that a simple thanks wouldn’t have been enough, but right now he knew he had a party to attend. To his family.

His father stops him before he said a thing, “Ah-ah-ah. No, just get your shit and get out of here.”

Stiles grins and winks before surprising him with a rushed kiss on his cheek before running to the door.

“Stiles.” His father said, stopping him at an ajar door. Stiles turns, “Don’t forget to kiss her. You’ll regret not kissing her a lot more than you’ll regret kissing her. Trust me. ” 

 

\---

 

Maybe he rushed.

A bit to much.

When he arrived to the Martin’s residency, the orange sky was setting behind the home. A dark outline gave him a setting that told him that he could still catch them in daylight. He could claim them and let the guests look and linger and think that maybe they are okay. They are a family who did have problems. A family who will be part of Beacon Hills and are here to stay.

In the backyard, Lydia was placing a number eight candle on the blue cake. Aaron had jumped from the bounce house and was tying up his shoelaces. He stood in between them, and his fist step directed him towards Lydia’s hand.

Soft, warm, and most of all, his.

“I got this,” he said. Folding his palm over hers, he took the lighter. One of his hands lands on her waist. Either she didn’t seem to notice or care, but he did feel her lean closer to it as he lit the candle. Her eyes curious, but quiet with happiness when she saw who it was.

That night, a picture was taken of the three of them, staring a an eight year old boy with tiny moles, mossy green eyes, and dark hair. A Stiles who tugged on one of Lydia’s short curls. A Lydia with a wide surprised gaze and a blue butter creamed nose. Oh, and smiles. There wasn’t a single frown in the new picture frame that hanged above his couch a week later.

Stiles decided there wasn’t a need for a black and white picture of a metal bridge that haunt his mind with negativity.

 

\---

 

“This doesn’t mean i’m going to forget,” he said.

“I’m not expecting you to do so,” she said.

He laughs.

She smiles.

Their lips finally give up on the war. It was time to stay home.

 

\---

 

"So, did you get the thing from the thing for the thing I told you about?" Stiles said, looking inside the open garage door. The last time he was here, his father had given strict orders to keep away unless he was thinking of taking all his shit. Not leave more of it there.

"Dad, you do realize mom is seven months pregnant. You might cause her to deliver Claudia prematurely with this."

True. He knew there might be a possibility. He shrugs.

"Hey, just because you are twelve years old doesn't mean you know the logistics of premature birth. So, keep your mouth shut and give me the thing." Stiles said, hoping this will work out as planned.

Aaron digs into his jean pocket and hands him the black box. He sighs and looks back at the inside of the garage, head shaking.

"Mom is going to kill you for this."

Stiles looks inside the black box. He remembered seeing it inside her drawers when he helped pack her shirts a week before moving to their new place. She never got rid of it. Just like he remembered it. Something blue, something simple.

His mother’s ring.

Grabbing Aaron's shoulder, they move towards the rusty blue Jeep Stiles swore didn't work. Last time he attempted to run the ignition on, was on a cold fall before heading to San Francisco after college. It stayed with his dad and since then, it hasn't been moved.

"Can't believe gramps agreed to letting you keep this piece of cra-," Aaron mumbled, hitting the hood. The metal echoed on the walls.

"-Hey, your mother loved this Jeep, okay? So, it's perfect. "

"Perfect for disaster you mean. You know she's going to yell at you non stop for this," Aaron informed him, starting to circle the car. He stops at the door, and asked for the keys to open it. Stiles tossed them to him.

"That's the plan," Stiles replied. "Besides. It's not like she could call the Sheriff on me. I'm already here."

Aaron mumbles something under his breath as he opened the door. It creaked as metal rubbed against metal. He stares at Stiles and jumps behind the wheel. “This is awesome,” He said, his hands sweeping off all the thirteen years worth of dust the interior had gathered. “Does it work?”

Stiles jumps on the passanger side, and shakes his head. “Oh no, it doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t move it. That’s why that’s here.” He said and points at the rented towing truck parked on the curb.

Stiles tells him that he’ll be back and ready to move the Jeep as planned. Aaron was right, and a mad Lydia would be perfect for the situation. A pregnant mad Lydia, well…

After talking to the tower, Stiles jogs back to the Jeep so they could begin to push it out to the curb. As he got closer, it seemed strange to him that Aaron was quiet and probably up to no good. He could see his head looking down something in his palms and Stiles takes a closer look.

The glove box was opened and Aaron held a dusty polaroid picture in his hand.

“We took that in Vegas. That lady right there,” he points, “is Stephaney.”

Aaron looks down and studies the picture. Stiles and Lydia had taken it the last day of their trip. It turned out that Stephaney was a performer in the hotel they stayed at. They couldn’t leave without snapping a picture with her.

Aaron shakes his head a bit with a smile plastered in his face.

“Mom’s hair was so long.”

Stiles leans in and see’s that he was right. Her current hair was right at her shoulders and still the same warm orange color it had always seemed to glow as. She had her head leaning on Stiles’ shoulder and hugged his waist with both arms. Stiles had an arm hooked around Lydia’s shoulders and the other on Stephanie’s back.

A picture he never removed from this Jeep for a reason.

Without this Jeep, those smiles on that polaroid would have been for a different reason. Maybe they wouldn’t have even met Stephanie. Maybe he wouldn’t have seen the Ron Pope ad. Maybe he would have never proposed, and the list could go on and on. Stiles knew that. Which is why he and Aaron were going to take the rusty blue Jeep and park it on Lydia’s parking space in the hospital. Tow her black audi and wait.

“She’s going to kill you. I just know it.”

“I know. But we’ll find out how in a minute or so.”

“God, i’m not going to your funeral. I’m warning you.”

“Ah, funny. Oh, wait. She’s out.”

Aaron covers his eyes and Stiles began to stand from behind the tree they both decided was a good place to wait and hide until Lydia was out from her shift. She was clearly confused and at one point she actually looked around.

Her hand covers her forehead a second before she began moving closer to the car again. This time as if there wasn’t anything confusing about this, but most likely another one of Stiles’ pranks. He could her her curse some things out along with his name.

“That right there,” Stiles said, looking back at Aaron who looked through his fingers, “is my cue. Wish me luck. I think I might need it.”

Before getting a chance to run off, Aaron says, “I already told you. I’m not going to your funeral.”

Stiles laughs and continues jogging to a Lydia who was currently pulling on the door handle. The metal screeching makes her jump a bit. He doesn’t get there fast enough to see the look on her face when she saw the black box on the seat.

“Remember this old guy?” He questioned her out of breath after hitting the metal car, causing her to jump back and stare at him with wide eyes. He knew she couldn’t believe it. Most things that came from him had the same expression from her.

“ What’s the meaning of this?” She whispered. Her eyes glistening with forming tears. The setting sun behind her casted a light over her hair. It looked warm in the summer air.

He steps up to her, and takes the lid of the small box and opens it in her hands. Her free hand covers her mouth as the other one was being held by Stiles’ as he placed the ring on her finger. 

“You know. Me and Aaron couldn’t help it.”

She stares down at her hand before meeting his eyes. He didn’t need an answer because the green screamed, “This is it. I love you, and I am going to marry you. This is us. Me and you, Stiles. Me and you. Forever.”

He takes her by the waist and places a hand on her stomach. “The Jeep couldn’t help it either,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. 

She turns away, his kiss landing on her cheek, and says, “I’m going to kill all of you.”

He immediately laughs and looks over towards Aaron’s direction and mouths, “Run.”

He didn’t get to see Aaron’s reaction anyway because Lydia had taken his face in her hands, “Aaron gets to escape. Not, you. You stay here, with me.”

Lydia Martin punishes him with a kiss, but it wasn’t the last.

**Author's Note:**

> This wen't all over the place!  
> Gah!  
> You are all wonderful.  
> Didn't expect it to be this long actually!  
> Thanks for reading though. 
> 
> Please check out my other Stydia works. 
> 
> Comment on thoughts please?


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